Ruins
by Diabolus-in-Harmonia
Summary: Set post-BW2. Ghetsis visits the Plasma Frigate. And uh, angsts a lot.


It hadn't really been difficult, 'reclaiming' the Team Plasma Frigate. The lost grunts who had remained under Colress' supervision had eventually found something to do with each of their insignificant little lives, and the traitorous scientist himself had moved on to less morally grey pastures, deciding to use his 'talents' to 'better the region' or some such nonsense. They'd essentially abandoned the ship to fall into disrepair, just like the laboratory it was docked next to, and the rightful owner of both. It didn't matter – Ghetsis wasn't interested in the condition of the ship, as long as the pathways to and from the monitor room could still support his meagre weight.

It was pathetic really, the sight of him weakly hobbling into his old office, leaning heavily on the cane the Shadow Triad had been kind enough to retrieve for him from the floor of the icy cave he'd embedded it into. The thought that he was only in his mid-forties and in such a condition almost brought a bitter smile to his lips – he hadn't actually _needed_ the cane when he'd had it made. Perhaps he'd subconsciously known he was destined for another failure, and had simply been planning ahead. Ghetsis shook his head and pressed onward, almost anxious to be reunited with the unnaturally illuminated room he'd grown attached to.

The destruction shouldn't have disheartened him as much as it had, really. Ghetsis had fully expected some grunt or other dissenter to have had their fun with his office just for the sake of it…but that didn't make the results any easier to take in. Several of the screens had been completely shattered, explaining the layer of jagged glass shards coating the floor. His throne was in quiet disrepair, looking functional but far past its prime, illuminated by the rays of much abhorred sunlight trickling through the heavily cracked ceiling. His desk had been entirely upturned and the papers that he'd once kept organised strewn around the room, contributing well to the general air of dilapidation.

Ghetsis let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding and approached his damaged throne in his now jerky, halting fashion. It was a pitiful sight, Ghetsis thought as he ran his bony fingers over an arm of the chair and inspected the resulting layer of dust coating his gloved fingertips. No matter. He settled down gingerly into the throne anyway, vaguely recalling how it felt to be powerful, how it felt to be in control of his life. Ghetsis straightened his posture, crossing his left leg over his right as he used to in his previous days of unblinkingly surveying these monitors, arms resting on the throne's own. His mismatched eyes scanned over the cracked and battered screens, surprised he could make out vague, fuzzy images in a few of them. He rest his face gently on his right hand, staring intently at the clearest screen - he recognised the location.

His castle. His once prized castle, currently in ruins beneath the pokémon league, frequented by that disgraceful excuse for a human being he'd 'raised'. Ghetsis wondered if someone was mocking him as the picture flickered between different stills of the hallways he once proudly strode through, the rooms he held meetings and often gave speeches in, that blasted throne room in which he'd seen his fall…

He closed his eyes, forcing down those ever so imperfect memories as they bubbled to the forefront of his mind – this kind of thinking never led anywhere pleasant. Upon reopening them, a different screen caught his eye – he could see parts of his various secluded laboratories, all abandoned. They were in better shape than the castle, but still dead and forgotten much like his scientific ambitions.

Appropriately enough, Ghetsis soon lost interest in them, his lifeless eyes drifting a third flickering screen. In this one, he observed the very ship he was currently aboard. He recognised the familiar shots of corridors and rooms from his long hours of closely watching his subordinates for the barest hint disloyalty, and found himself briefly puzzled by a few stills of areas he couldn't recall installing surveillance cameras in. However, with so much footage of the broken remnants of his dreams playing out before him, it was easy to forget about.

Ghetsis found himself digging his fingers into the arm of his throne before long as he vividly recalled the abject humiliation of being brought down by a single child _twice_. He wondered what he must have done previously that warranted his absurdly ill luck, and could come to no reasonable conclusion. It wasn't _his _fault he'd ended up like this…

He bit his lip, and blinked a few times to try and fix the sudden blur in his vision, apparently intent on upsetting himself some more with these visual reminders of what happens when he puts his mind to something. The crunch of glass underfoot distracted him from his misery, however - his caretakers had come to collect him. How _sweet._

"Lord Ghetsis," one of the Shadow Triad murmured by way of greeting, head bowed, "you've been here long enough."

"I'm occupied, " he responded, not even averting his eyes from the monitors before him. He liked to make their lives difficult when he could, as they were so insistent on forcing his own to continue. "There appears to be much surveillance footage I've missed out on…"

"Lord Ghetsis, the screens are all off." This made Ghetsis pause, and turn his head to the most vocal member of the trio. He soon elaborated, somewhat unnerved by his leader's unblinking stare, "the Frigate has no source of power, and the majority of them are broken, Sir."

"…So they are," Ghetsis said, turning back to the utterly dead collection of screens before him. A smile tugged at his lips, and he rose shakily from his seat. "Perhaps it _is_ best that I return, after all…"

"Yes, Lord Ghetsis. Do you require any assistance?" The Shadow asked tentatively, wary of Ghetsis' pride. The green-haired man shook his head, and began to make his own way back outside so that he could be flown back to his hideout of sorts.

"No thank you," he said, turning back to the monitors briefly. A single screen caught his eye, flickering merrily with the image of a mansion of sorts, hidden on the outskirts of Floccesy Town. He shook his head and at last left his old office, the same sad smile still gracing his face.

At least his delusions had become more realistic since his fall.


End file.
